


Strip

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Implied Sexual Themes, M/M, Mind Games, Stripping, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: People can usually tell when they're being watched.  Akechi Mitsuhide is no different.





	Strip

Mitsuhide had managed to stave off the inevitable confrontation regarding his campaign – but that did not mean he could avoid it forever. Nobunaga doubted that his retainer had done so on purpose, even Mitsuhide wouldn’t act so rashly – or so he thought. Regardless, as he passed by the room that Mitsuhide was currently stationed in, he couldn’t help but notice that the door had been left open.

That was unlike him.

He took two steps closer, and then quickly realized that the room wasn’t deserted – any thoughts of sabotage or an attack quickly left his mind. He was there, removing his own armor and clothing piece by piece, with his back to a completely open door. 

Had the man completely lost his _mind?_

Nobunaga was about to make some sort of snarling comment about his generals and the standards of decency and decorum that they were expected to maintain, but then Mitsuhide’s hands went to the ties at his hips and he suddenly stopped breathing, eyes following those fingers, trailing and caressing over fabric and skin. He’d never noticed until now how truly pale he was, his skin looked as white as his hair and Nobunaga knew that he would have been _happier_ had it been stained crimson with blood. It could be Mitsuhide’s blood, it could be that of another – he wouldn’t have cared, the high would have been the same to him anyways.

Sick, Nobunaga thought, and with a thankful return of his own sanity he rounded the corner and continued on his way, the image of Mitsuhide’s bare back and body burned into his mind. Damn that man and the way his spine curved when he bent to retrieve the plating from the floor. Damn him and his long fingers and the way he would sometimes-almost-glance over his shoulder, the way he would laugh and the way he would smirk.

It was almost as if he had known that his Lord was there the whole time.


End file.
